Phil McGovern

Mrs. Herzog
A.P. Lit
November 5, 2014
No Tears Re-Write
As the rain poured down onto the panes of the windows, I sank into the itchy, brick-like
pillow in my hospital bed. The nurses, those of which could bare to see me, popped in and out
quicker than the intervals between the raindrops. Lying there trying to drift off to sleep, the roar
of the fire became increasingly louder. Without her realizing, I noticed that ungrateful, selfindulged woman at the foot of my bed. I asked her who she was, although I knew full-well it was
Jane.
Why, you are like Jane Eyre!
Yes, but I am not the same Jane Eyre that you once knew Aunt! Im now the person you
desired me to be!
Regardless of my prejudices, I knew there was something I must tell Jane before I
rested.
Is the nurse here? or is there no one in the room but you?
It is just us Aunt.
While attempting to face Jane, a sharp pain in my side caused me to immediately cease
all movement.
Realizing nothing I could try to tell Jane would prepare her for what she was about to
read, so I told her to go to my dressing-case and read the letter lying on top of it. Watching Jane
read the words I had read over and over again was worse than anything I could ever imagine. I
wanted to send Jane the letter, but my hatred for her was just so great that I couldnt bring
myself to help her prosper.
It is my intention to write shortly and desire her to come to me at Madeira...I wish to
adopt her during my life, and bequeath her at my death whatever I may have to leave.

I told Jane that as a child, our relationship was not the best. While I did not treat her the
way I promised my husband I would, Jane did not make it easy.
Oh Jane, The fury with which you turned on me, and the tone in which you declared
you abhorred me, made treating you like one of my own nearly impossible.
Even after telling Jane what I had done and demanding some water, she calmly handed
me some water and accepted my apology.
It is alright Aunt, I am a grown woman now and have since outgrown this childish
behavior.
Instead of acknowledging Janes comments, I told her that her doing well in life was what
I could not stand.
Jane, I wrote Mr. Eyre and told him that you were dead.
I welcomed Janes adverse reaction, telling her that I believed her birth to be my
torment, but no reaction came. Instead, she remained level-headed and told me not to burden
myself with the guilt. In my mind, I pleaded with Jane to lash out. I needed to feel the same
wrath I had dealt Jane as a child so I could truly atone for my actions. As much as I tried, the
opportunity never came. Even after I told Jane that her disposition was atrocious, she simply
explained that she is passionate, but not vindictive. Why would I ever show Jane a feeling of
compassion when I couldnt get a single true emotion out of her? As I took another sip of my
water, I felt Janes embrace as she covered my hand with hers. Without saying a word, I let my
cold hand slip from her touch and slowly closed my eyes to let Jane know that our conversation
was done for the remainder of my time on this earth. While I no longer hated Jane, I hated
myself for treating her the way I did. After Jane said something about love and hate which I
could not really make out, I saw a nurse enter with Bessie. I couldnt bring myself to face Jane
again, although I could vaguely make out her shape standing in the corner of the room. Knowing
that a true response was unattainable, I finally stopped trying. Trying to hold on to the feelings of
guilt that I had was weighing too heavily on my soul. At midnight, I let go.